It would be difficult for any one to appear more absolutely dumbfounded than von Erstein when I delivered my ultimatum and got up.
That I had scared him, his chalk-white cheeks showed unmistakably, while the quiver of his lips, clenched hands, and the fierce light in his piggish little eyes testified to his rage. He jumped up instantly to stop my going.
"Don't go, Lassen, at all events in that way. Let's talk it over," he clamoured. "The thing can be explained and we can come to an understanding."
"You swine!" I growled. "Get out of the way or I shall forget I'm in your room and lay my hands on you."
He tried not to wince, but was too much of a cur. "Look here, I'm not going to utter a word about that Hanover business. I swear that," he said as I went to the door.
"You've done it already, you lying hypocrite. You know that; and so do I. I've heard of it, and I shall hear if you say any more. And by Heaven, if you dare to say another syllable about it, I'll—well, keep out of my way afterwards, that's all"; and I left him to judge for himself what I would do.
I had to go. I should have mauled the brute if I'd stopped. I was mad with fury; and I walked off, unable for the time to think of anything but his disgusting cowardice and bestiality. I'm no saint, and don't pretend to be one; but this brute's infernal plan to get Nessa into his power was more than flesh and blood could stand. I believe, anyway I hope, I should have felt just as hot if any other girl had been concerned.
I ramped about the streets, taking little notice where I went, and it was not until some of my fury had cooled that I began to consider what steps I ought to take. I was glad I had lost my temper and gone for him; but after a while it began to dawn on me that I had blundered badly. All I needed was to gain a few days' delay; and it would have been far more diplomatic if I had seemed to fall in with his plans and just made a few excuses to account for any inaction.
But one can't always be worrying about diplomacy; and anyhow the beggar was thoroughly scared. Probably he'd be just as much put to it to hit on a new offensive as I was to decide what to do next; and whatever happened I wasn't going to be sorry I'd let myself go. What I was sorry for was that I hadn't been able to "go" with my hands instead of only words.
It wouldn't do merely to twiddle my thumbs, however; and after a while it struck me that the best thing would be to get another interview with old Gratz and just tell him the whole pretty story. If it did no good, it would do no harm, and certainly it would prepare him for any other scheme by von Erstein to prove Nessa to be a spy.
At this point some one clapped me on the shoulder. "Hallo, Cousin Johann, whatever are you doing in this out-of-the-way place?"
It was Hans. "If it comes to that, what are you doing, young man?"
"There's a shindy on in the Untergasse, and I've been watching it. A lot of women kicking up a row about food, or something. It looked like getting warm, so I thought it time to go home."
"Let's go and look at it," I said directly. I had heard rumours in England about bread riots and rather liked the idea of seeing one for myself, and I recalled what the tailor had said about it.
The place was close at hand; and sure enough there was a big crowd and a noisy one, too. Quite a couple of hundred women with a sprinkling of men, and as much noise as at an Irish faction fight. We stood a minute or two at the corner of the street when Hans caught sight of a friend, and asking me to wait for him, ran off.
I observed that although there were police about, the tailor was right in saying they were not taking the usual steps to stop the row; and I noticed also that the crowd was growing in numbers and moving in my direction.
Then came the sound of smashing glass, with loud shouts from the women who clustered round the spot where the smash had been, and I went down the street far enough to see that a baker's shop had been forced.
The police interfered then; but it was too late, and there were too few of them. Moreover, the mob had tasted blood, or rather smelt food; and soon afterwards there was another smash; this time a provision shop. The crowd had been allowed to get out of hand; and I saw some of the police rush away, presumably to telephone for more men.
I was standing in the road at that moment and had to skip aside to avoid an open car which came rattling down the street toward the mob. An old lady and a girl were in the car, and as they passed me, the latter stood up and called excitedly to the chauffeur to stop.
If it hadn't been a German he would never have been fool enough to have attempted to enter the street at all; but I suppose he had been told to take that route, and his instinct of slavish obedience to orders did the rest. The result was what any one might have foreseen.
He was too late to turn back, and his one chance to get through was to have driven bang into the crowd and trusted to luck to clear a way. As it was, he came to a halt on the very verge of the crowd; and in less time than it takes to tell it, the car was the centre of a yelping, hungry mob of viragos to whom the sight of rich people in a costly car was like a good meal spread before a lot of famished wild beasts.
Worse than this, moreover, was the fact that some ruffians who had been hanging back began to push their way toward the car, whose occupants were calling for the police. They might as well have cried for the moon; and every cry was greeted with jeers and yells of anger from the women around. The trouble soon thickened.
One woman more reckless than the rest started a shout to have the two out of the car, and herself jumped on the step, grabbed the chauffeur, who seemed about paralyzed with fright, lugged him off his seat, and the crowd hustled and jabbed and cuffed him, till he was lost in the throng. Then some one opened the door of the car, and made a snatch at the dress of the girl, who set up screaming.
This was too much; so I shoved and shouldered my way through, pushed aside the woman who had tried to grab the girl, and urged the two panic-stricken ladies to come out. They hesitated, however, and a filthy hooligan with a long iron-shod bludgeon barked curses at me for a Junker and aimed a vicious blow at my head. I managed to dodge it, and jabbed him one in return on the mouth which sent him staggering back and enabled me to snatch his stick away.
Armed with this, I soon cleared a space about the car and again urged the two frightened occupants to leave it. The girl jumped out at once and had to help her mother, while I kept the mob at bay, and then fought a sort of rearguard action in miniature.
But we hadn't a dog's chance of escape. The mother was half an invalid, and could only move very slowly, while the women round, furious at being baulked of their prey and led by the brute I had hit and a couple of his cronies who had come up meanwhile, surged round us like a lot of devils gone mad.
We reached the pavement, however, and as I spied a deepish doorway, I changed my tactics and made for it, treating some of those who stood in the way pretty roughly. We were able to gain the doorway all right, and I hustled my two charges into momentary safety behind me and told the girl to keep hammering at the door till some one opened it, while I tried to keep the crowd back.
It was no picnic; but I reckoned on being able to stem the rush for the minute or so until some one came in reply to the girl's knocking. It was in our favour that the fight we had already put up had rendered some of those in the front of the crowd a little chary about coming too close; and as the doorway was very narrow and the stick I had captured a long one, I put it across the outside, thus forming a useful barrier, and was able to hold it in position by standing back at arm's length, and thus almost out of reach of both the hands and feet of those in front.
To my dismay, however, no attempt was made to let us enter the house, although the girl had kept up an incessant knocking. The mob soon tumbled to this and things began to look ugly. The old lady, scared to death and ill, was on the verge of collapse; the daughter, almost equally panicky and alarmed by her mother's condition, stopped hammering at the door and bent over her; the crowd was getting more furious every moment; those at the back began to push those in front forward, the brute I had struck first came on with the rest, and I came in for some pretty hot smacks and kicks.
But the little barrier of the stick kept off the worst, and, as every second was of vital importance, since help might come from a reinforcement of the police, I took the gruelling and just held on.
A couple more invaluable minutes were gained in this way when another of the men, a dirty little red-haired beggar, more wary than the others, tumbled to the weak spot in my defence—my hold on the stick. He tried his fists on my hands first, and finding that was no good he whipped out a pocket knife and jabbed me with it.
I loosed the right hand and dropped him with a tap on the nose which brought the blood in a stream and gave him something else to think about. But his two companions had seen his little dodge and made ready to flatter it with imitation, so I had to adopt other tactics.
I was pretty reckless by that time, and in no mood to be man-handled by a set of German roughs; so I changed the barrier into a weapon of offence; it made a fine sort of pike with its ironshod end; and I used it without scruple or mercy. I drove it slap into the face of the man who had struck me first, then into the chest of the fellow next him, and lastly downed a third with a crack on the skull.
That accounted for all the men and took off a lot of the edge of the crowd's appetite for more. They fell back a pace or two and I stepped in front of the archway, swung the bludgeon over my head and swore that I'd brain the first person, man or woman, who moved a single foot forward.
Nobody in the front ranks seemed in any hurry to accept the invitation; but again those at the back, who had no knowledge of the happenings, began to shove forward, and slowly the people in front were pushed forward against their will and despite their efforts to resist the pressure.
The result was plain. I couldn't break every head in sight, of course, and I was at my wit's end what to do, when a really happy thought occurred to me. I had a lot of small money in my pocket, whipped it out, and sent it scattering into the street.
"If it's money you want, there it is," I shouted at the top of my lung power, and sent a second lot after the first.
It was a truly gorgeous scheme. I yelled loud enough for nearly all to hear, and the flash of the coins did the rest; the pressure round the mouth of our shelter was relieved instantly, and both back and front rows joined in a fearsome scramble in the middle of the road, where I had been careful to shy the money. I never saw a finer scrimmage in my life.
"We can go," I called to the couple behind me, seeing that the pavement was clear enough for us to get away. But the elder woman had fallen and was incapable of any effort whatever.
"Have you any small money?" I asked the girl. "My own's all gone."
She felt her own pockets and in the handbag on her mother's arm and gave all she could find.
It was enough to keep the crowd busy for another minute or two, and I stepped out, and just as the people were easing off from the first diversion of the scramble, I yelled out that there was more to come, and flung the whole lot broadcast among the tossing heads, taking care to shy it as far down the street as possible. There was an instant rush for it.
I slipped back into the doorway, picked up the old lady and made a dash for it, telling the girl to bring the stick with her and keep close to the houses, which by that time were all shut and barred.
We managed to get some yards toward the street corner when two of the men who had given us trouble spied us, and, thinking that I was now unarmed, came rushing in pursuit, calling to a lot of the others to follow.
They soon overtook us, and there was nothing for it but to put up another fight, this time without the friendly help of a doorway. I laid my burden on the pavement, took the stick from the girl, and turned to face the oncomers. The instant they saw I was still armed, they pulled up in surprise and hesitated. I promptly seized the moment of their consternation and went straight at them, clubbed the nearest and was making for the next when I heard a whoop behind me, suggesting an attack from the rear.
I turned to meet it, and to my intense relief saw Hans standing by the two ladies. "Come on, Hans," I called, and he was by my side in a jiffy. We had a rough and tumble for a few seconds in which he joined like a brick, and then relief arrived. We heard the sound of horses, with the jingle of accoutrements, and the next moment a small troop of cavalry turned the corner of the street, and we left the rest of the proceedings to them. They soon scattered the mob, who fled in all directions except ours, and the street was quickly cleared, leaving the car the one conspicuous feature in the foreground.
As the chauffeur was nowhere to be seen and the old lady couldn't walk, I sent Hans back to her and went to see if the car had been much damaged. It had certainly been in the wars; stripped of everything, even to the cushions, but the engine was all right, so I started it, climbed in, and backed to the spot where the ladies were.
Then it flashed suddenly on me what an ass I was making of myself to let any one see that I knew anything about cars; but it was too late to make a pretence now, and I consoled myself with the reflection that there was no need to let the people know who I was.
But there I reckoned without Hans. The mother had sufficiently recovered to get up, and was speaking to him when I reached them, while Hans and the daughter were casting sheep's eyes at each other in a fashion which told tales. They were evidently old friends, and a little bit more; and I wasn't, therefore, surprised when the mother knew me as Lassen, Hans' cousin.
She was awfully sweet and grateful and the tears trembled in her eyes as she thanked me, holding my hand in both of hers, declaring that both she and her daughter owed me their lives, and making so much of the matter, that I had to chip in with a suggestion that she had better get home as soon as possible.
"But how?" she exclaimed hopelessly. "Where's Wilhelm?"
But Wilhelm, evidently the chauffeur, was nowhere to be seen; and there was nothing for it but to volunteer to drive the car myself.
All this time friend Hans had been making the best of his opportunity with the daughter, who also thanked me profusely when I had helped her mother into the car.
"Where am I to drive?" I asked as I took the wheel.
"Hans knows the way," suggested the daughter, with the faintest little flush of confusion as she hazarded the suggestion. He grinned.
"Come along then, Hans," I said; and he nipped in and told me where to go and which way to take.
"Rather a nice little child," I said presently, chipping him; the girl was about sixteen, I guessed, as her hair was still down. But he resented the speech.
"Child! She's only a year younger than I am," he exclaimed quite indignantly.
"So that's how the wind blows, eh?"
"I wish to Heaven I'd come up sooner; but I say, you did make a fight of it, cousin. Nita's been telling me all about it. She says they'd have been torn to pieces if it hadn't been for you. You're a lucky beggar!"
"I don't take too kindly to that sort of luck, Hans, I can tell you."
"I only wish it had been mine," he declared regretfully.
"You did all right as it was when you came; and of course she saw you. Rather a pretty name—Nita."
He smiled self-consciously and coloured. "But her mother didn't; if she had it might change her opinion and——" He didn't finish the sentence and exclaimed: "But I say, you do know how to handle a car!"
This didn't suit me, however, so I went back to the pretty Nita. "The mother's against it all, eh?"
"Only for the silly reason that we're too young. And I shall be an officer in a month or two; but the Baroness is like Rosa in that, she can't understand when a fellow's grown up."
"It'll come all right when you've been in the army a year or two," I said consolingly.
"A year or two," he exclaimed in some dismay.
"Well, if she won't wait for you as long as that, she isn't worth bothering about, Hans."
But he wasn't in a mood for any philosophic consolation. "But she will; she's said so a hundred times. There's no doubt about her; but there's something else; somebody else, rather."
"And which are you? Number one or number two?"
"Oh, I don't mean with her; but old Gratz has some one else."
"And what's he got to do with it?"
"Johann! Seeing that he's her father, he's got everything to do with it, of course."
This was something like a jar in all truth. He was about the last soul in Berlin who ought to know that I had so far recovered my memory as to be able to handle the car. "Do you mean that this old lady is Baron von Gratzen's wife?"
"Of course she is. I thought you knew it."
The fact that it was Baron von Gratzen's wife and daughter whom I had managed to snatch from the clutches of the mob was startling, and might have vital consequences. But whether it would help or harm me, it was difficult to decide.
The first impression was that it was rotten luck. By all accounts Lassen was far too great a coward to have faced the mob; and that fact alone was dangerous since it tended to emphasize the difference between us. More than enough had transpired in the interview with the Baron to show that he already suspected I was not Lassen; and this business might put the finishing touch to his suspicions. My handling of the car, moreover, might be accepted as an additional proof of the impersonation.
There was of course another side. It was his wife and child who had been rescued; and if he hadn't a stone in place of a heart, he was bound to feel some amount of gratitude. But would that be sufficient to cause him to smother his suspicions?
The German official is commonly a two-natured individual; showing one side in his private life and the other in his office. His manner to me that morning had been friendly enough; but that was after his suspicions had been quieted and he had regarded me as Lassen. What the effect would be when his suspicions were again roused, it was impossible to say.
If he was like many of those I had known in the old days, he would be quite capable of professing and even feeling the deepest gratitude privately and at home, and the next minute at his office regretting, with tears in his eyes, that his duty compelled him to pack me off to gaol. That's the worst of Teutonic sentimentality. It's pretty much like a compass needle in an electric storm; you never know where it will point next.
When we reached the house nothing would satisfy the Baroness but that I should go in so that her husband should have an opportunity of thanking me; and in we went. It was a relief to find that he wasn't home; but she would not hear of my leaving until she was satisfied that I was not seriously hurt, and wished to send straight off for a doctor to examine me.
Discussion resulted as usual in a compromise, and Hans carried me off to the bathroom. There was nothing the matter that soap and water and a clothes-brush couldn't put right. I was very dirty; had a bruise or two, a couple of scratches on my face, and a cut on my hand where one of the men had jabbed at it to make me release my hold of the stick.
The last looked the worst, because of the drop or two of blood smeared about; but it didn't amount to anything, and I was really lucky to have got off so lightly.
While I was removing the traces of the scrap, Hans told me a good deal more about Nita and the position of affairs in the von Gratzen household, together with his impressions of Nita's father.
"I think he's a regular bear, you know. He is to me; but then he doesn't like me any more than I do him, worse luck," he said dolefully.
"Do you think the best way to get any one to like you is to begin by disliking him?"
"I didn't begin it; but he always scowls when he finds me here, talks to me as if I was a kid of ten, and calls me 'Hansikin.' It makes me regularly sick, I can tell you. Of course he's awfully decent to his wife and Nita, and they both worship him; and so does he them. But he's always trying to make fun of me; and he's such an artful old beggar that I never get a chance of scoring off him. I believe he's as big a humbug as any in Berlin. And I'm not the only one who thinks so, too."
"What you've done to-day ought to change his opinion, Hans."
"That's just my rotten luck. I came up too late to do anything, and even the little I did do, the Baroness couldn't see."
"But Nita saw it."
"And a lot he'll care for what she says. He'll just grin and say I was a good boy, or some such rot as that, and forget it."
"We'll see about that. He'll know that no boy could send a grown man headlong into the gutter as you did."
"Did I?" he cried excitedly.
The truth was that he did not; but there seemed a chance of doing him a good turn, so I described a little fictional incident of the sort, telling him that he was too excited at the moment to remember anything. "It was the turning point of the whole show, Hans, for if the beggar hadn't been downed at that very moment, they'd have got us to a cert."
"Do you think Nita saw it?" he cried boyishly.
"How could she, when her mother was lying all but fainting on the pavement? She wanted all her eyes for her."
"Just my luck!" he exclaimed with a disconsolate toss of the head, as we went downstairs.
Nita and her mother had also been using the time to repair, and both of them appeared to have rallied from the shock. I had to go through more of the thanksgiving ceremonial. Only the plea of an urgent engagement got me out of a most pressing invitation to remain to supper in order to be thanked over again by the Baron; and I had to stem the torrent of gratitude by bringing Hans' part into action.
"It's awfully sweet of you to give me all the credit, my dear madam, but you're overlooking my cousin's part; and you owe quite as much to him. I'm afraid there would have been a very different tale to tell, if he had not come up when he did."
"I didn't know that," she exclaimed in great surprise; and I saw Hans and Nita, who were snugging it together in a corner, prick up their ears.
"I don't want to make him blush," I replied, lowering my voice, and repeated the fable I had told him in the bathroom, garnishing it with one or two more or less artistic touches.
"I didn't see all that."
"Unfortunately at the moment you were not able to take notice of anything, I'm afraid."
"Nita hasn't told me about it either."
"She could not have had eyes or thoughts for any one but you just then. It's only natural, of course."
"Then I've done the boy an injustice, Herr Lassen."
"Boy!" I echoed with a start. "No boy could have done what he did, and no man could have behaved more bravely;" with special emphasis on the "man."
It worked all right. After a moment she called him up, repeated the pith of the story, and showed her gratitude in a way that made him blush like a girl. Then she kissed him and declared, to the profound delight and astonishment of them both: "That's a good-bye kiss to the boy, Hans. I shall never think of you as one again after this; neither will the Baron, I am sure. You must stop to supper and hear what he thinks of it."
He was so overwhelmed by all this that he could scarcely stammer out his acceptance of the invitation, and when I was leaving he came to the door and couldn't say enough to thank me. He had a very hazy idea of all that he had really done, and it wasn't surprising that, being a German, he was ready to accept the story as gospel and rather to preen his feathers over his own prowess.
Still he was a decent youngster, and his little harmless swagger was very intelligible. "I say, cousin," he added as he opened the door, "I wish you'd do me a favour and tell Rosa. She'll believe it, if you say it."
"Of course I will. I'm taking the Karlstrasse on my way," I promised readily. I wanted to hear if there was any news about the progress of our "conspiracy." The afternoon's affair wasn't all honey, for there was the question of its effect on the Baron; and the sooner my back was turned on Berlin the better.
It was old Gretchen's job to attend to the front door, and when she answered my ring, she told me no one was at home, and that Rosa had left a parcel for me. A glance showed that the paper wrapper was torn and that the packet had been put up clumsily as if in a great hurry by unskilled fingers. Gretchen had evidently been curious about the contents.
I opened it in her presence, therefore, as there could be no harm in her having a second look at it, and found a quaint card-case inside, with some cards printed, "Johann Lassen," and a line saying she thought I should understand and find them useful. It was rather neat of her, and clearly was intended as an assurance that she meant to keep our secret.
She came in soon afterwards and I thanked her for it. She was pleased that she had succeeded in making her intention clear; but she wasn't so pleased when she heard that old Gretchen had had a peep at the card-case. Nor was she at all overjoyed at the story of the afternoon's doings in the Untergasse. She looked mighty grave about it, indeed.
"I'm not going to say I'm pleased about it, Johann," she declared. We had agreed that it would be better practice for us to use the Christian names even when alone. "It wants thinking over."
"Your reason?"
"Von Gratzen. You saw him this morning, didn't you?"
I nodded and gave her a very brief report of what had occurred and that he had been quite friendly.
She shook her head. "You'll have to be awfully careful with him. He knows, as well as I do, that my cousin is an arrant coward, and that no man in all Berlin would be less likely to do what you did this afternoon; or could have done it, in fact. The Baron's a man I could never understand. No one can. He does the most extraordinary things; he's horribly keen and shrewd; quixotic at one time and abominably harsh at another; although from his manner you'd think he wouldn't hurt a fly."
"Well, let's hope he'll show his quixotic side over this, for it's too late to alter things;" and we were still discussing it when Feldmann arrived, and she asked him eagerly for news.
"There's a hitch, I'm sorry to say. About Hans," he reported with a worried look. "His permit to travel has been refused. They won't release him from his training even for twenty-four hours. I did all I could, I assure you, Rosa."
"And about the other?"
"Oh, that's all right, of course. A mere matter of form; and it will be ready to-morrow, I expect. But one's not much use without the other."
"Johann could use yours, Oscar," suggested Rosa.
"Not on any account," I protested. "Herr Feldmann might get into no end of a mess."
"It isn't that, Lassen. I'm so well known all along the line that it would be hopeless. You'd be spotted in a moment. I'd run the risk like a shot otherwise; I know how Rosa feels about it."
"What can we do?" she exclaimed, turning to me.
"Make the best of it. Nessa must go without me, if I can't get off; and there's no chance of that tomorrow. Will the papers have a definite date for the journey?"
"I gave the date we agreed, but I dare say I could get that altered to allow us a margin of a day or two, perhaps a week; but then this wedding is the excuse; and of course that date can't be altered. But I could see Miss Caldicott into Holland all right."
"What, with a false passport! It's awfully good of you to offer, but I'm sure she wouldn't hear of it for a second. No; we must try the other way."
"What's that?" he asked.
He shook his head ominously at the mention of von Gratzen. "I know a lot about him, and I wouldn't put a pfennig's reliance on any hope from that quarter," he said emphatically. "I don't say he won't do anything, mind you, because one never knows what he will do next. He's one of the sharpest and ablest men in the country; we all admit that; but——" and he gestured and shrugged his shoulders.
"Unreliable?" He nodded. "In a shifty unscrupulous way, you mean?"
"Oh dear, no; not that at all," he said vigorously. "Individual. That is the best word. If he thinks a thing should be done, he does it whether it is according to official rules or not. That is not German. He is not thorough, as we understand the word."
There remained only the other plan—that Nessa and I should get away in some disguise, and at a tentative suggestion about false papers, Feldmann laughed.
"You will easily understand that when a people are subject to so many rules and regulations as we are, plenty of men set their wits to work to break them. False identification cards are as common as false coins, and if you knew where to go, a few marks would buy one, or a genuine one either, for that matter," he declared; but he made no offer to get them, and it was better not to press the thing farther then.
I left soon afterwards. The failure to get Hans' permit and all that had passed about von Gratzen served to make the position more and more difficult and complicated. The man seemed to be an enigma even to those who were in constant touch with him, and it was ridiculous to imagine, therefore, that any one who had only seen him once should understand him. A close and careful review of the interview with him threw no light on the matter. He had been exceedingly kind and friendly; but there had been a moment of startling contrast. That one keen look of his; so sharp, intent and piercing that it had seemed almost to change him into a different man; and it might well be accepted as the one instant in which the mask had been allowed to drop.
In the morning there was another incident. A curt formal summons arrived summoning me to his office at noon. This, after the previous day's job in the Untergasse! He might at least have had the decency to write a private note; and naturally enough the thing increased my uneasiness.
And then, if you please, it turned out that he had named that time as it was the hour when he went home to lunch and wished to take me with him! How could one judge such a man?
I put the note before him, with a word to the effect that I had thought it was on official business, and he laughed it away, saying he had told his secretary just to ask me to call.
He couldn't make enough of me; kept speaking to me as "My boy," and "My dear boy"; smothered me with protestations of gratitude; and capped it all by asking me to make his house my home while I was in Berlin.
That didn't appeal to me in the least. "Wouldn't it be very invidious, sir, if I was to go to you when I've only just left my aunt's?"
"I've a good mind to use my official power to compel you, my boy," he returned laughingly; "but the wife shall talk to you about it. In any case you must promise to let us see as much of you as possible."
That was easy to promise; and after a few moments we went out together.
If he wasn't sincere, then he was one of the best actors in the world either on or off the stage.
Which was he?
I could find no answer to the question. Yet everything probably depended upon it—Nessa's fate and my freedom, and possibly even my life.
As soon as we were in the street von Gratzen linked his arm in mine. "It won't do you any harm to be seen in public with me," he said jestingly; and even in that half-bantering remark he managed to convey a subtle meaning.
"I can understand that, sir."
"And now I want to hear all about that affair yesterday."
"I expect you've already heard what there is to tell."
"Of course I've had my wife's and Nita's story, but I want yours. I may need your statement for official purposes, you see."
"I would rather not have to do anything official," I replied. An appearance as witness in any police proceedings was unthinkable.
"Don't let that worry you; I'll make it all right. But the affair was by far the most serious of the sort we've had, and I want all the facts available. That's all."
He listened to my description of the scene; questioned me about the men in it particularly, asking if I could recognize them; and laughed outright at the story of the scramble for the money.
"It was a stroke of genius, boy; positive genius," he declared, and asked me how much I had thrown away. A very German touch. I expected him to offer to repay me; but he spared me that and let me continue the story. When I came to the closing part, I made the most of Hans' share, declaring that if it had not been for him the result would have been very serious, and that he had acted like the brave man he was.
It made an impression; but he did not evince anything like as much interest as in the other parts.
"You've left out one thing, haven't you, my boy? Something that pleased me exceedingly and set me thinking. I mean about your being able to drive the car. Nita says you not only drove like an expert, but were able to put the engine right."
Nita had much better have held her tongue, was my thought. "I was awfully perplexed about it myself afterwards," I replied, feeling deucedly uncomfortable.
"You haven't had anything to do with cars since you came, have you?"
"Not a thing, of course. That's what worried me. I just went up to it as if it was the most natural thing in the world—I didn't have to touch the engine, though—and got in and drove it."
"You see what it means, of course. Why, that it was an instinctive recurrence of memory. It was most fortunate."
That was a matter of opinion, however; but as we reached the house then no more was said about it.
At lunch all the talk was on the subject of the scrap. They were full of it, and went over the ground again and again until one might have thought I had won the Iron Cross by some conspicuous act of most gallant bravery and resource.
That was the sentimental side, and, at first, when the Baron and I were alone afterwards smoking in his sanctum, he grew even more embarrassingly flattering. "It's no good your trying to belittle the affair, my dear boy. If it hadn't been for you, Heaven alone knows what would have happened to my wife and Nita. I haven't a doubt that it would have killed the wife. She is not strong; she has been very ill; and is only just pulling round. The marvel is that she hasn't collapsed, as it is."
I tried to protest, but he wouldn't listen to me.
"I tell you my blood runs cold when I think what those devils would have done if they had got hold of her. I know that sort of Berliners; they'd have torn the clothes off her back and mauled and beaten her without mercy. And it was only the fortunate fact that you were present and acted so bravely that saved her. I shall never forget it; never; and if there's anything I can ever do to prove that I mean what I say, I shall grip the chance with both hands."
"You are very kind, sir."
"Don't talk in that way about kindness. I should be an ungrateful brute if I did not mean it. You can judge how I feel when I tell you that if my son had lived I would have him just like you;" and there was moisture in his eyes as he stretched out his hand and wrung mine impulsively.
That he was in earnest it seemed impossible to doubt. He sat looking at me steadily for a while and then surprised me. He leant forward and fixed his eyes on mine. "I want to ask you a question. Are you sure you have never seen me before?"
Rosa's warning flashed across my thoughts. This might be a trap; so I returned his look with equal steadiness and shook my head. "I don't recollect it, sir."
"Try to think. Try hard. Look back over the years to when you were a boy."
Of course I "tried," and equally of course failed.
He dropped back in his chair with a sigh which seemed to breathe the essence of sincere regret, and after a moment said with almost equal earnestness:
"You know all I have said to you; you believe it, believe that I am really a friend to you?"
"Of course, sir. No one could speak as you have otherwise," I replied, smiling. It was a queer question.
"Then, believing it, is there anything you would care to tell me?"
What the dickens did this mean? I smothered my doubts under another smile and then nodded. "There is one thing, sir." His face lighted and he was all expectation and interest on the instant.
"It's about the man you mentioned yesterday—Count von Erstein."
His look changed directly. All the light and eagerness died away and he put his cigar back in his lips. "Oh, about him, is it? Well?" he asked, as if the subject didn't interest him in the slightest.
But he listened carefully to the account of the interview with von Erstein, squinting at me curiously whenever Nessa's name was mentioned, and seemed sufficiently interested to put some questions about her.
"An ugly story, my boy, very ugly; although I'm not much surprised, knowing the man. But why have you told me?"
"Because I wish you to be prepared if he still tries to carry out his infernal scheme."
He smiled. "And because you're naturally indignant, eh?"
"I am. For my cousin's sake. The two are very old friends."
"I see. Then it's not for the girl's own sake?"
What the deuce was he driving at? His manner kept me guessing all the time. "Partly for her sake, of course. That sort of beastliness always makes me wild."
"I can understand that, my boy, and am glad to hear it. Just what I should expect of you. Is she pretty?"
"I suppose she is in an English way," I replied, shrugging.
"It's not because sheisEnglish that you feel like this?"
"I hope I should feel much the same if she was a Hottentot, sir."
"I wish all our young fellows were the same. Well, for your sake, I'll see that she comes to no harm. I presume, however, that you are quite sure she is not really a spy? Very serious, just now, you know."
"My cousin is, and she has known her many years."
"Then why doesn't the girl go home?"
"It's her one absorbing wish, sir. She has been trying for months to get permission, but von Erstein has managed to stop it."
He nodded once or twice and leant back in his chair thinking until he glanced at the clock and rose. "Time's up. I must get back. I make a point of being back always to the tick. It's a hobby of mine. I'll think over all you've told me, for I'm interested in it; far more so than you may imagine. I'll make an inquiry or two about this Miss Caldicott, and if it's all right, she shall go home. You can tell your cousin so. But it's a long way and a bad time for her to travel alone."
"I don't think she would mind that a bit, sir."
"You make a very earnest champion, my boy; but let me give you a hint. Don't let any one else get the same idea. I mustn't take you away with me now, unless you wish to make an enemy of my wife. You must stay and be heroized for a while. Now mind, don't fail to come to me, if you're in any sort of difficulty," he said.
"I certainly will come, sir."
As we went out into the hall and were shaking hands, he said, "By the way, I've had the doctor's report about you; and Gorlitz is very strong about our sending you to England to see if the environment would bring your memory back. What think you?"
It was all I could manage to prevent him seeing what I did think of it in reality, but I stammered, "I'm quite in your hands, sir."
He laughed softly and with such meaning. "Perhaps we could kill two birds with one stone, then. How would it do for you to take this Miss Caldicott there with you?" And without waiting to hear my reply he went, leaving me in such amazement that I could have almost shouted for joy.
But did he mean it? Or was it just a subtle test? A trap? I was worrying over this when his daughter came out to fetch me in for the "heroizing" business.
Nita was quite a pretty girl, and now that she had recovered from the previous day's shock and had a rich colour in her cheeks and brightly shining eyes, I wasn't surprised at Hans' infatuation.
"I do so want to speak to you alone," she said. "I want to thank——"
"My dear young lady, no one has been doing anything else since I entered the house. Do give me a breathing space."
She laughed; and a particularly sweet merry laugh it was. "I understand; but this is something special; something else, I mean."
"Oh! Shall I guess?"
With a start and a vivid blush she dropped her eyes, fiddled nervously with her blouse for a moment, and then looked up and laughed again. "I don't mind your guessing," she challenged.
"Something to do with——"
She interrupted with some vigorous nods. "You did tell some taradiddles though. Hans didn't really do anything. I saw it all."
"If he had not rushed up to me just when I called him, my dear young lady, none of us would have got out of the scrape as easily as we did," I said seriously. It would never do for her to think small beer of her lover. "It was that and the way he went for the brutes that decided everything and sent them scuttling off."
"But he didn't do anything, Herr Lassen!"
"Do you mean to tell me you didn't see him knock that dark brute, the biggest of them I mean, head foremost into the gutter?"
"Did he really?" she cried, open-eyed.
"If you didn't see that, you can't have seen everything as you said."
"But he told me he hadn't a chance to do a thing."
"Bravo, Hans!" I exclaimed. "Just like him. You wouldn't expect him to spread himself and swagger about his own pluck, would you?"
But all roads lead to Rome and so did this one. "He declared it was all your own doing, and after the way you fought before, I——"
"Come along, let's go to your mother," I broke in, and linking my arm in hers I moved toward the drawing-room door. "Hans is one of the best; if he weren't, he wouldn't be so ready to give me the credit for what he himself did. But we can't have that, you know."
She held me back a moment. "What you said about him has done wonders with mother; changed her right round; and we're going together to the von Reblings. Oh, Idothank you so!" and being only a kid she squeezed my arm ecstatically.
I had to endure a bout of "heroizing," but something came out in the course of it that made me put my thinking cap on afterwards. Nita playing chorus to her mother's praise as she repeated some of the pretty things von Gratzen had said to her about me.
"I've never heard him speak in such a way of any one in my life before," she declared; "and he is so grieved about your extraordinary loss of memory. I think he is even rather provoked about it. He was in England as a young man, you know, and has made several visits there in later years."
"I did not know that," I said, pricking up my ears.
"He loves to talk of the country and the people, and, as you have just come from there, I am sure he is bitterly disappointed because you can't tell him about the things you saw and the people you met and all the rest of it."
"It would have been very interesting to me too," I said.
"You don't know how long you were there, I suppose?"
I shook my head. It seemed less mean somehow to do that than to lie outright in words; and it answered all the purpose quite as well.
"It must be a dreadful thing to lose one's memory," put in Nita.
"It makes everything very difficult," I said with a shrug. It did.
"And yet you can remember everything that's happened since, can't you?" she persisted.
"Perfectly. As perfectly as if I had never had that shock."
"Itisodd."
Her mother took up the running again then. "My husband thinks you must have been a very long time in England," she said.
"That's very interesting. Why does he?"
"I don't know exactly. Of course it can only be a guess. But he declares you are much more like an Englishman than one of us. I fancy it's your reserved manner; the way he said you pronounced English to him; and then your knowing something of the English words of command. In fact he took you for an Englishman at first; and he questioned me ever so closely, almost cross-examined me indeed, as I told him, about your fighting yesterday, the way you used your fists, and so on. I was quite amused."
My feeling was anything but amusement, however. "It's a thousand pities I can't tell him anything."
To my surprise this seemed to make her laugh, and I thought it prudent to join in the laugh. But it was something else which had tickled her. "There was one thing he insisted upon worrying us both about. You remember, Nita?"
"Do you mean the kicking, mother?" The latter nodded and Nita continued. "I thought it awfully funny, Herr Lassen, to tell the truth; at least I should have done if it had been any one else; but father always has a strong motive in such things. If he asked me one question he must have asked fifty, I'm sure, taking me right over every incident of yesterday, to find out whether in beating off those awful men you had ever once used your feet. I told him I was sure you hadn't; and he seemed to think it was a most extraordinary thing for a German to have used only his fists. Don't you think it silly?"
"I don't know quite what to think of it," I replied truthfully.
"For shame, Nita, your father is never silly," said her mother severely; but Nita had her own opinion about that, judging by the pout and shrug which the rebuke called forth.
There was a moment's pause, and this offered me a chance to change the subject by putting a question about the war work which both were doing; and soon afterwards I left the house.
It was clear as mud in a wineglass that von Gratzen was still undecided about me. That close questioning about my method of fighting was disquieting; so was the reference to my reserved English manner; and the reference to my pronunciation, especially as I had rather plumed myself on my American accent. It all pointed to the conclusion that my nationality was suspect in his opinion.
He had been in England, too, and I myself knew how well he spoke the language. Altogether he was probably as well able to spot an Englishman as any one in the whole of Berlin. And yet all the while I had been flattering myself that he had been completely hoodwinked.
At the same time no one could have shown me greater kindness. That he was really grateful for the previous day's affair was beyond doubt; it had appeared so to me anyhow; and his implied offer of help—that I should go to him in any trouble—made with such earnestness as to amount almost to insistence, all suggested an intention to be a friend.
There was the reference to Nessa, again; his ready promise that she should be sent home "for my sake," and the startling proposal at the very last moment, that she should go in my charge, which had literally taken my breath away.
What was one to think? It was a very puzzle of puzzles, especially in view of the unreliable vagaries of German officials in general and of what Rosa and the rest had said about von Gratzen in particular.
What a lovely mix up it would be if his suggestion materialized and Nessa and I were packed off together under official protection! It seemed a million times too good to be even thinkable. Compared with such a gloriously gorgeous plan, our little conspiracy scheme seemed almost contemptibly mean and commonplace; scarcely worth bothering about for a moment. But it was best to have as many strings to the bow as possible, so I went to the von Reblings' to hear if Rosa had anything to tell me about it.
Ought the others to be told of the fresh development? It seemed better not for the present. It was hard luck to have to keep such stunning news secret, but there was nothing to be gained by raising Nessa's hopes until they were virtually certain to be fulfilled. What would she think of the notion? I hoped I could guess. Being a bit of a sanguine ass, I started castle-building on the foundation, and by the time the Karlstrasse was reached, I had planned, built, and furnished a very noble edifice indeed.
Old Gretchen opened the door as usual, and her look and start of surprise and general manner, suggesting something uncommonly like consternation, brought me down to earth and shattered my castle effectively.
"They are not at home, sir," she declared hurriedly; and instead of opening the door wide, she held it so as really to block my entrance. Her obvious nervousness probably accounted for a step which at once roused suspicions.
"No one at all?"
"No, sir. They will not be home until late."
"That's a nuisance; but I'd better speak to Miss Caldicott."
"She's not in either, sir." The reply was given hesitatingly, and she made as if to shut the door.
A smile and a casual, "Oh well, it doesn't matter," put her off her guard and her relief was shown in her change of look. "Can I give them any message, sir?" she asked. But her relief vanished and gave place to greater concern than ever when I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
"That's a good idea, Gretchen; I'll write them a little note," I said, as I passed her in the direction of the drawing-room.
She slipped before me and stood by the library. "You'll find paper and everything here, sir," she smirked.
It looked as if she wanted to keep me from the drawing-room; and it was not difficult to guess that she had been disturbed at her spy work there. It was a bad shot, however; for during the pause there came the murmur of voices in the drawing-room itself.
"You must be wrong, Gretchen. They must have come in without your knowing. I can hear them."
"Oh, no, sir. The door's locked. I have orders always to keep it locked when the Countess is not at home;" and she held up the key in proof and slipped between me and the door.
I started with a great appearance of alarm and pushed past her. "Then there's a thief in the house," I exclaimed.
At that instant there was the sound of some sort of commotion in the drawing-room; a cry of "How dare you?" in Nessa's voice, followed by a sneering laugh, uncommonly like von Erstein's.